


if we were not

by revolutionnaire



Series: nothing left to burn [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:57:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolutionnaire/pseuds/revolutionnaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimi and Felipe figure out what it means to be teammates and maybe a bit more.</p><p>(Set during the 2008 and 2009 season.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	if we were not

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the f1slash Summer Slash 2010 challenge. This was accompanied by a beautiful fanmix by @aitakute but I'm not sure what the rules regarding posting download links are here.

1.  
  
There are only a few things in this world that Kimi Raikkonen loves.   
  
Felipe Massa is not one of them.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
2.  
  
It isn’t easy being teammates and doing what they were doing, in Formula One of all things. More often than not, it feels like they are tightrope walkers in the midst of a particularly daring act, as though they are perpetually perched on a tightrope miles above the ground; always wobbling precariously, always on the verge of disastrous unbalance-- just one race gone wrong would risk plunging them into an endless tumultuous abyss for the rest of the season.   
  
It drives Kimi insane, it always does.  
  
  
  
  
The truth is, he can’t stand the awkwardness that now followed a race. It was becoming unbearable-- that guilt that hit him square on the chest whenever he caught sight of Felipe’s crestfallen face at coming second again (and again, and again), and the jealousy that hissed from his heart like the dying gasps of air from a deflated balloon when it was Felipe with the winner’s trophy and not him.  
  
He’d probably feel guilty for feeling like this, were it not for the fact that he knew Felipe felt the exact same way he did. He’s seen the dark look that clouds over Felipe’s face and the way Felipe looks at him when he wins, but also the way Felipe’s smiling eyes fill with guilt in the seconds before accepting his trophy. He also knows, more than he’d like to, how it takes them days after a race before they acknowledge each other again. And once those days have passed, they pretend nothing has happened. “Hello,” they say to each other, as though meeting for the first time, as though the slate between them is pristine and untouched, and nothing has happened.  
  
It’s a sorry state of affairs, but the only time there was no awkwardness was when they both messed up. Ah yes, when they were both losers, when they were both devastated and in need of comfort and solace-- that’s when things worked out. They could only really be happy when they were both sad. It’s a sorry state of affairs, yes, but that’s just how it is. It is all that he can handle.  
  
Quite simply, Kimi doesn’t think they lo-- no,  _like_  - each other enough to revel in each others’ victories.  
  
It’s not a question of love, of course. He’ll never love Felipe the way he loves Jenni-- Jenni and her slender wrists and the delicate way she pushed her hair behind a pearl ear-ringed ear and the way she always smelled a little like lilies, crushed grass, and horses underneath expensive perfume. He’ll never love Felipe like that. He knows this. He knows this, so it must be true.  
  
  
  
  
Still, there are times when the sledgehammer of guilt hits him too hard, or when the angry snarl of jealousy burns too hot in the pit of his stomach, and he thinks of going up to Felipe, of sitting down opposite him and solemnly saying no, no this isn’t working, it cannot always be like this, either one of us leaves or both of us leave and stop racing but I don’t think that would be smart, so.  
  
But as he’s thinking this, he will look up and suddenly see that Felipe has caught his gaze and is smiling sweetly, shyly at him, and then his mouth will go dry, his train of thought sadly abandoned like a lone shoe by the curb.  
  
He’ll smile back though.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
3.  
  
“You think maybe if we were not team mates, it would be better,” Felipe asks one day, eyes staring straight ahead, as they sit under the air conditioning vents and listen to the scurrying hustle of the mechanics all around them.  
  
“Maybe.” Kimi lifts a bottle of mineral water to his lips. “I don’t know.”  
  
“What if we were not drivers – ”   
  
And Felipe suddenly stops talking. He lowers his eyes to the ground, clutches his helmet a little tighter to his chest.  
  
“If we were not drivers, we would not be anybody,” Kimi says, a little too sharply. He feels Felipe wince beside him. “We would not know each other even.”  
  
“Right,” Felipe agrees like he’s always known. “Right, of course.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
4.  
  
At its roots, Formula One has always, always revolved around balance-- balance between driver and car, between skill and technology, and the even more delicate balance between individual and team glory. So it comes as no surprise that they too are all about balance. You see, they are teammates, but they are also rivals. They are also men. Whether they were drivers before they were men-- that’s what Kimi isn’t so sure about. They cannot yet take joy from each other’s victories if it came at their own expense. That’s just how it is.  
  
“You’re only nice to me because we’re teammates, right? That’s all. That’s how it is, right?” Felipe looks at him, his eyes pleading for an answer Kimi doesn’t know how to give.  
  
No, Kimi wants to say. No, I don’t think so. Even if we weren’t teammates, I’d still— I’d still—  
  
“Yeah,” he says coldly. “That’s how it is.”  
  
  
  
  
(What is this then? It starts with an itch in his palms that scurries all the way up his arms until it turns into a stray thought in his mind. It’s always stupid, silly little thoughts, like when he puts his arm around Felipe’s shoulders to congratulate him after a well-deserved pole, and he ends up thinking instead of how small Felipe is. How small he is, and how much that made him want to protect him, no matter what the cost.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
5.  
  
Kimi’s always known when to push down on the brakes. That innate sense of judgment and accuracy, his grandfather used to say, as he watched him devour laps in his go-kart, is what makes a man a champion.  
  
It’s really part of the whole reason why he’s a world champion to begin with— that uncanny ability to catch himself right before he goes over, before he plummets over the edge (or skids off the track in the middle of a particularly sharp hairpin turn). He’s always lived life on the edge because if you didn’t, it isn’t really living, is it? So Kimi Raikkonen pushes limits and crosses boundaries and breaks barriers, but he always knows when to stop, when to slam down on the brakes, and when to pull back.   
  
It’s also the reason why when Felipe shows up at the front step of his motor home, hands fiddling awkwardly with an empty water bottle, and announces in a small voice above the crunch of plastic that he’s going back to Brazil for a month, Kimi just shrugs and says, okay.  
  
Says, okay, and turns his attention back to his book, leaving Felipe to sigh and walk away - the defeated slump of his shoulders and hang of his head betraying his non-committal whispered goodbye; the perfect picture of desolate hopelessness.   
  
It will be almost a long time before they see each other again. Kimi tells himself, as he reads the first line of Nabokov’s  _Lolita_  for the tenth time, that he won’t miss him.  
  
( _Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. Light of my life, fire of my loins. Light of my life. Light of my life._ )  
  
  
  
  
Felipe writes once from Brazil, a solitary email peppered with spelling mistakes and irregular capitalisation. It’s nothing special; it’s actually kind of boring—  _hello, How are you! the weather is hot, today i went on the water ski and thought about you because you do the boat racing, remember. not because I miss you so don’t miss me so much, Ok._  There’s a strange little winking smiley face attached to the last sentence, so the whole thing is obviously meant as a joke, but it still sends Kimi’s heart reeling.  
  
He reads the email no less than fifteen times before he types out a hesitant reply.  
  
  
  
  
When Felipe gets back, Kimi greets him with a solid handshake and when no one is looking, whispers  _happy birthday_  in his ear and asks if he would like a puppy.   
  
He does not say anything else.  
  
  
  
  
It is more than a week later when Felipe turns up on his front step once again, looking just like he did almost two months ago. A little shy, a little pained. His face contorts, as though he is battling something deep within himself.   
  
Finally, he takes a deep breath.  
  
“I missed you, Kimi,” he says, in a tiny voice.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
6.  
  
“Felipe’s out,” crackles Chris’ voice over the team radio. “Felipe’s out; you have to win it now, Kimi. For the team and more importantly, for yourself.”  
  
Kimi squints out at the stretch of track of him and thinks,  _shit_. Shit, he’s got to do it now, he’s got to win it, he’s got to make it from two places down and fourteen point two seconds behind to take it and oh shit, Felipe’s out. So he has to win. Winning would mean that he’d surge past Felipe in points. He  _needs_  to win.  
  
For the team, he tells himself, steeling his nerves and releasing his grip on the brakes. For the team.  
  
  
  
  
“Your eye-- it is fine now?” Felipe says at last, when the celebrations have died down and the team doctor has reassured them a hundred times that a couple of drops of champagne in an eye was not anything life-threatening.  
  
“It’s okay.” Kimi’s surprised. They never usually spoke to each other after a race, especially a race as taxing as this.  
  
“Good race.”  
  
“Yeah, it was okay.”  
  
“It’s hot.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Congratulations,” Felipe sighs at last. It should have been me, Felipe wants to say. Instead he says, “I’m happy it was you.”  
  
Kimi edges a little closer, and gives Felipe’s shoulder a warm squeeze.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
He really should have said, I’m sorry, you deserved it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
7.  
  
This was not supposed to happen.   
  
But Kimi pulls Felipe to him anyway, feels the heat of Felipe’s neck against the palms of his hands. He’s losing it, he knows, he’s completely losing it. He had not planned on this happening. Felipe struggles for a while, and then he just gives. He’s hot and pliable under Kimi’s straining hands. Kimi pulls Felipe closer, pushes himself nearer, desperate above all things to close the space between them. Grips tighten and hands bruise as lips crush against lips and shuddering breaths are drawn in low gasps and almost inaudible moans.  
  
Between breaths, Felipe sighs Kimi’s name deliriously against his lips as his hands tangle greedily in his hair. Felipe’s skin is searing hot to the touch and for the first time in his life, Kimi can’t stop himself. He kisses Felipe’s neck, licks warm sweat from the skin of his throat. Felipe’s lips are insistent and hungry against his when he meets them again. He tastes of despair. Kimi’s head is swimming now, lost in the haze of lust and desires unfulfilled. He forgets race cars, podium finishes, and championship points.  
  
All that matters, in that very instant, is the sharp stutter of Felipe’s hot breath against his lips.  
  
Their ragged breathing quiets, their hands flutter to a standstill. “Love y--,” one of them begins, but catches himself just in time. Both pretend the silence was never broken.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
8.  
  
“What is this one? Why did you get rid of it?” Felipe murmurs, voice slurred with sleep as he traces a lazy finger around the smiling sun on Kimi’s wrist. It’s hidden under a layer of ink – Kimi’s had it tattooed over for some reason – but Felipe can still see its outline, its comical face still beaming under the sharp edges of the new ink.  
  
Kimi shrugs. “Don’t know,” he says, and his mouth has gone dry and awkward.  
  
“Too bad,” Felipe yawns. “It was cute.”  
  
“Really,” Kimi says, trying to keep his voice level.  
  
Felipe presses his lips to it in a little kiss, then to the raised bump of scar tissue that ran along Kimi’s hand. (“Ski accident,” he’d said simply, by way of explanation).   
  
“Yes. I can still see it. See?” Now Felipe runs his fingers down each hidden beam of sunlight. He looks up and grins wickedly at Kimi. “You cannot hide it from me. Outside you’re trying to act cool and everyone believes you, but I know underneath everything you are cute like this sun. See, I know the truth, yes?”  
  
Kimi drops a kiss onto the top of Felipe’s head. Felipe laughs and his whole body shakes with it.   
  
“A sun. My Iceman with a sun,” he hums happily to himself. “Just be careful you do not melt.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
9.  
  
Everybody knows what will happen, of course. It travels around the camp, unspoken but universally understood. When the day comes, it finally happens.  
  
"Did you want to do it?" Felipe can’t help himself and the question is cast out like a net in the middle of a storm before he has the sense to reel it back in.  
  
Kimi, as usual, is impassive.  
  
"I didn’t not want to do it," he says, infuriatingly.  
  
"You had to," Felipe snarls.  
  
"Well, I promised," he says, and Felipe’s hands ball into fists.  
  
It’s annoying how Kimi just shrugs it off like it doesn’t matter and Felipe realises that that’s the thing that doesn’t sit well with him. He wants it to matter; he wants it to mean something. It’s foolish and childish, but he wants Kimi to have done it because he wanted to, not because he had to.  
  
Felipe continues glaring at him.  
  
“What do you want me to say?” Kimi says eventually, through gritted teeth, and he’s starting to look more than a little annoyed. “You want to hear I did it for you? Okay, I did it for you.” He stops to hold his face in his hands, as though he’s just been struck by a sudden headache. When he looks up, his eyes are pained.  
  
“As if I would have done it for any other reason,” he finishes quietly.  
  
Felipe opens his mouth; thank you, he wants to say. He wants to grab Kimi by the shoulders and hold him close, and tell him how much it means to him even though this is Shanghai and not Helsinki and there aren’t a million people watching with flags pressed against their open mouths and tears in their eyes.  
  
Tha--, he begins, but already Kimi’s walking away, and Felipe is left there alone, staring at the broad expanse of his back and the defiant firm rigidity of his shoulders.  
  
He bites his tongue.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
10.  
  
It is all at once all too familiar. Again it is Brazil, and again fate has broken Felipe beyond belief. And again, Kimi finds himself extending his hand in silent consolation.  
  
This time, they are both losers, but once again, Felipe has lost in the cruelest way possible. They are both losers, and neither one of them is happy.  
  
On the winner’s podium, the rain lashes down on them, sending unrelenting rivulets of cold rain water streaming down their faces.  
  
“Felipe,” he says, brokenly, as he watches Felipe shiver on the top step of the podium. Kimi doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more heartbreaking. There’s Felipe, alone at the top of the podium, and there are tears in his eyes but still he’s holding his hand to heart and trying to smile.  
  
It really is terribly cruel, Kimi thinks bitterly. He leans towards his teammate, and puts a comforting arm around his small shoulders. “Sorry,” he mumbles, hating himself. Felipe muffles a choked sob against his shoulder and Kimi feels a hot stab of pain surge through his chest.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Felipe’s ear. “You deserved it.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
11.  
  
Felipe lies back against the stiff, sterile hospital pillows and watches the video the FIA have compiled for him, pretending he isn’t waiting for what he really is waiting for. There it is. The split-second flash of pale skin, the slight nod of a head. Get well soon, and that’s it. His heart breaks a little.  
  
He knows it’s stupid to feel disappointed of all things, but he still does. It’s Kimi. He isn’t sure what he was even expecting. They were just teammates after all, and that didn’t mean anything. It’s what he’s been telling himself all season; it doesn’t mean anything.  
  
But then Kimi shows up later, looking guilty and a little weird. There is a small envelope in his hands, already creased and crumpled. Felipe has to grin and wonder how he managed to get in after visiting hours. Everybody has already left, of course, even his parents and Rafaella. But there’s Kimi standing silently in the darkened doorway of his hospital room, and there’s a slump in his shoulders, a sort of sombreity in his stance that Felipe’s never seen before.  
  
Felipe beckons him over and Kimi sits in the chair by his bed, still silent.  
  
Kimi doesn’t say anything, but he takes Felipe’s hand; Felipe’s injury being the perfect alibi for crimes usually committed in the safe cover of the night. Felipe’s a little surprised at Kimi’s nonchalance (Kimi may be one hell of a daredevil, but this breaks barriers that Kimi would usually not touch with a ten-foot pole.) but Kimi’s grip on his hand tightens, and Felipe stops breathing for just a second.  
  
They sit like that for a while, in complete silence, and Kimi refusing, for some reason or other, to meet Felipe’s gaze. And then Kimi says, “Felipe.”  
  
Felipe curls his fingers against Kimi’s cold palms.  
  
He realises Kimi’s been trying to avoid looking at the bandage on his head. He notices the way a tiny shudder, almost undetectable, runs across Kimi’s arm as he accidentally brushes against the intravenous tube embedded into the skin on the back of Felipe’s small hands.  
  
“Felipe,” Kimi says again, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice that wasn’t there before.  
  
So Felipe swallows and answers. “Yes?”  
  
“When they tell me,” Kimi begins, haltingly, and he’s still not looking up. “When they tell me about you - about the accident - I was so scared. I was thinking, you know, I was thinking I do not care what happens to me. What happens to the race. I will stop racing if it will make Felipe okay.”  
  
Felipe is struck silent. So much for loving victory, so much for loving glory more than each other. So much for love. Kimi Raikkonen would give up racing for him, and Kimi Raikkonen loved racing above all else.  
  
“And also,” he says, and Felipe may be wrong but he thinks he hears Kimi’s voice straining a little. "I am sorry for the video. I know it is not so good. But I made you a card."  
  
He holds the envelope out, awkwardly, like an offering. And suddenly, Felipe feels like crying. He reaches out for Kimi, blindly, finding his face and forcing it to him. Kimi looks at him, finally, for the first time. The colour has drained from his face and looks paler than he ever has before.  
  
“I--,” he starts, but the words catch in his throat. He tries again. “I’m okay.”  
  
“Thank god,” he hears Kimi whisper, his voice that of a broken man. “Thank god.”   
  
“You love racing,” Felipe says stupidly, knowing what Kimi will – or should – say in response, but he says it anyway just to hear it.  
  
This time, Kimi answers without missing a beat. “I know.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
12.  
  
“What you said earlier-- in the hospital-- ”  
  
“I will leave,” Kimi says, cutting him off. “It is better that way.  
  
Felipe stares stupidly at him.  
  
“You… you will be happier,” he continues, smiling sadly.  
  
“No! No, I won’t,” Felipe protests weakly. “How can you think I will be happy when you are not here?”  
  
The look on Felipe’s face is heart-breaking, but Kimi shakes his head firmly. “I have decided already. Please, I am doing this for you.”  
  
“We will not be teammates anymore,” Felipe says, his voice strained. Kimi isn’t sure what to make of it all. “What will we be?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Kimi confesses. “But you will be happy.”  
  
Now it is Felipe’s turn to shake his head. “And you? What about you?”  
  
“I will miss you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
13.  
  
There are only a few things in this world that Kimi Raikkonen loves.


End file.
